Anything
by MarvelMatt
Summary: [First in the Anything Series] Anything. That's what he would do for her. There's no line he wouldn't cross, no chance he wouldn't take, no person he wouldn't cross off. As long as it's for her.


**Anything.**

 **That's what he would do for her.**

 **There's no line he wouldn't cross, no chance he wouldn't take, no person he wouldn't cross off.**

 **As long as it's for her.**

* * *

He'd known it would come down to this.

It had to.

Coulson wouldn't knowingly allow Garrett to get away with his plan of creating an army of super-soldiers using the Centipede serum.

And Garrett, well he wouldn't let Phil be the one to stop him, and there was only one way Phil was going to stop.

It was obvious to anyone with a set of eyes and half a brain that one of them was going to die.

The only question was which one?

Which one of them wanted it more?

SHIELD or HYDRA?

Even their teams were well matched.

Garrett had all of Cybertek at his disposal, while Coulson had access to both halves of Fitzsimmons and Skye. And if he was honest with himself, truly honest, then from what he had seen, Coulson held the advantage.

Not that he'd ever bet against Skye.

 _Skye…_

 _Not now! Get your head in the game!_

He knew Tripp had decided to stay with the team, as he knew he would. He wouldn't be surprised if he and Coulson were already trading war stories about Captain America and the Howling Commandos.

 _Bloody fanboys._

And he had May.

She was The Calvary – a living legend at SHIELD. He'd spent months training with her, studying her fighting style, imprinting it. She was one of the best he'd ever met. Their first non-mission day they'd had on The Bus, Coulson had taken the time to fill-in the paperwork for Skye to join the team, Fitzsimmons were showing the hacker around the plane and May had ordered him down to the mats.

Apparently, she hadn't read his full file.

Not that she had access – after all, it was Level Ten.

Technically, even he wasn't allowed to read it.

After three hours, she'd stood up and deemed him 'acceptable' to be the team's specialist. A part of him was glad to have her approval, proud even, while a larger part of him was insulted at being called 'acceptable' – he was one of the best. She'd only landed the hits on him that he'd allowed. Enough to keep his particular 'gift' under wraps without arousing any suspicion.

 _Thank you for that one Dad_

Still, he was impressed when the word came in.

Skye had broken into the Cybertek facility, intending to break out the victims of the Incentives programme, and apparently she had a bomb.

A part of him wanted nothing more than to help Skye. To take her straight to the holding rooms and let them all out. He just wanted to hold her. To sweep her into his arms and never let go. He just wanted to protect _her_.

From _everything_.

But he couldn't risk everything on Coulson's, admittedly slim chances, despite his faith in them, especially since John had taken the mock-up GH-325 serum that Raina and Quinn had created. He'd become more unhinged than usual. John had always been a pragmatist, his ideas were wild, but his methods were unscrupulous - but this? - ordering the death of Fitzsimmons instead of capturing them, putting his hand _through_ a U.S. General, letting Raina go free with the Gravitonium. These decisions were not the same rational plans John made, these were deeply disturbed ideas.

The serum had finally made him snap.

So when he ordered Mike Peterson – no Deathlok – Mike was dead, to stay at his side, and ordered him to head to where she was, he didn't hesitate. He would do _anything_ to protect her.

He'd proven that when he'd dropped the box into the ocean. Fitz was probably the closest thing to a best friend he'd had in over ten years, and when it came down to it, when it came to him or her, he hadn't hesitated to throw him out of The Bus.

Yes, he'd given him, and by extension, Simmons, a fighting chance at survival, but it hardly mattered to him, and he doubted it mattered to them. If he'd had no other way, if they hadn't locked themselves in the pod, he would've put a bullet between their eyes.

No hesitation.

It was cold, callous, maybe even cruel, but that didn't matter to him. Right now, all that mattered to him, was _her_.

Nothing was more important.

So, it was with that thought in mind that he pushed himself around the corner and into the main foyer of Cybertek, heading straight for the control room.

Where Skye was waiting for him.

* * *

He held all the cards.

Being 'The Clairvoyant' was the perfect cover – using his security clearance, of which he had one of the top ranks in, he would discretely access the SHIELD psych evaluations to provide a backdrop canvas, and then he, the magnificent artist he was, would paint the picture he needed his opponents to see.

Getting chosen to be the agent leading the search for 'The Clairvoyant' was just a stroke of genius.

Picking Ward as his tool to utilise for infiltration was too easy. He'd met the kid a few times in passing at The Academy, whenever he was checking up on Kaminsky – his own protégé – the kid didn't handle emotions well, but was top of all his classes – best since Romanoff according to every instructor the boy'd ever had – all he needed was a way to make the kid belong to him.

He wanted to be the kid's SO, but he apparently already had one, not that his file noted who it was, and the kid was too good to slip up and give away that information. He considered just buying his loyalty, but no, that wasn't enough.

He needed a way to _own_ the kid completely.

He'd been considering ways to get the kid for months, thinking of ways to approach him, he'd even had Kaminski try and befriend him, to no avail. He was ready to call it a loss when he'd seen a glimpse of it. Level Ten classified file, but all it had taken was a glance at the name - the boy's father – and he knew he _had_ to have him, no matter the effort, no matter the price.

And then it had happened.

The boy made one mistake, one tiny slip up, but it didn't stop him. Nearly any other agent would've found somewhere else to put it, to bury it, somewhere they could forget it had ever happened, but not Ward. The boy took responsibility for his actions.

He respected that, cleaning up after himself, taking care of his responsibilities. How he wished he'd picked him up instead of Kaminsky … he just had one problem.

The stupid boy was in love.

Well, not a problem really … a weakness like that could be exploited.

Then it became clear. Not a problem – leverage.

* * *

She felt _sick_.

That was the only word she could use to describe the feelings that bubbled up inside her whenever she thought about _him_.

He'd lived with them for months, lived right next door to them, slept alongside them, fought with them, eaten with them, drank with them, played games with them.

She could remember it all, the training, the smiles, the compliments.

His awkward attempts at flirting.

He'd even sat up with her all night in Dublin, just talking about their past. His family and her search for hers.

She'd never felt closer to anyone than she had in those particular moments.

And it was all a lie.

He'd been there since the beginning, with the sole intention of stabbing them all in the back. He'd let them kidnap Coulson, let them torture him for information.

Let Quinn shoot her.

He'd stood by as she _fought for her life_ , with a concerned look, which was a lot for him, and had the _audacity_ to look relieved when she woke up. He'd come in, and babbled, and she had thought he looked cute.

Cute!

She felt like throwing up again.

But she couldn't, not now anyway, she had a job to do.

"Even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't-"

Absentmindedly she pressed the button for the timer on her phone, resetting it to zero. The threat of a bomb would only take them so far. It wouldn't work _at all_ if she let him see that all she had was the normal timer app open on an iPhone.

"-just, please, don't kill me"

Before she could even come up with a response for that, he appeared.

"She won't kill you", his handgun was drawn, and aimed straight at her, straight at her heart, which she thought was fitting, "she didn't kill me, and she hates me"

"I don't hate you", and that was the truth of it, she wanted to, but she couldn't, "I just pity you. Betraying the only people who'd give you the chance to be a worthwhile human being", she watched something flicker behind his eyes before it was gone.

* * *

 _"…_ _worthwhile human being"_

That was his problem, his desire to be better for _her_ , but he kept getting into these situations where he had to make the hard call over and over again.

But they had to understand. It was _all_ for her.

They had to!

"Someday, someday Skye, you'll understand"

"Never", her words tear through him, but he has to do this, "I'll never give you what you want"

She takes a step forward. Their close now. Face to face for the first time since The Bus. Since he turned his weapon on her and Coulson.

Since he opened fire.

Since he missed.

He never misses.

At least, never by accident.

"-and they are going to destroy you"

"They?"

"Us"

The door to the main office slams shut behind him, and standing there, looking completely pissed off, ICERs in hand are May and Tripp.

* * *

Getting the scientists out of the ocean was his first priority, which was swiftly followed by getting the young engineer – Fitz wasn't it? – into a decompression pod, so that they could minimise the damage done. Being unconscious underwater was never good, but for as long as he had been? That was even worse.

He wasted no time barking out the orders as his team moved to carry them out, his one good eye trained on them at all times, as they placed the scientists into the pods.

Priority one. Check.

Priority two. Find wherever it is Coulson's managed to track Garrett to, kick his ass and throw him and all of his HYDRA buddies in jail.

Priority three. Find out why in the hell Grant Ward – the kid he'd personally pulled out of Juvie – the same kid who had graduated The Academy in record time after entering it at age sixteen – was working with HYDRA, and in particular, John Garrett. Ward always said he felt weird around Garrett, that the senior agent gave him the creeps.

 _Did John know who his father was?_

 _No._

 _No! He can't._

 _It was hidden too well._

There was only one way he could even _conceive_ of that Ward would help them in any capacity, and he truly hoped that it wasn't that, because if it was, Ward'd kill anyone in between them.

But it had to be.

His blood ran cold.

He had to get to this facility, the tracker he pulled off the scientists should speed that up, and he had to be there yesterday.

* * *

 _"_ _Us"_

The door closed with a resounding 'thud' as May and Tripp made their way towards him, ICERs drawn, stalking him, trying to intimidate him with their superior numbers.

Not that it would work.

"Put your guns down"

Tripp looked amused, "There's two of us and one of you. You put yours down, and maybe we'll take it easy on you. Then again", he forced a cruel smile on his face, which looked out of place on the normally happy-go-lucky agent, "maybe not"

"You're right, but if you shoot me, my finger will automatically tighten around the trigger", he paused to let his warning sink in, "and then one of two things will happen"

Tripp lost his amused look as his eyes narrowed, and May's blank mask moved to match it, "Oh?"

"Well either the bomb goes off, killing all of us, including the hostages held underneath us"

 _Good. 'Accidentally' give away key information._

"Or?"

"Or nothing"

"Nothing? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, that nothing will happen, because there's no bomb, and you have no way to ensure the controller's cooperation, let's face it, if you were going to kill him, you'd have done it already", the flicker of fear in Tripp's eye gives their game away, he's called their bluff and they know it, "now, lose the guns. _All_ of them"

* * *

He's found it.

The Cybertek main facility.

He'll be there in a matter of minutes.

He can only hope they're still alive.

* * *

"Why?" Skye's voice tears him away from where he's watching as the two field agents throw away their third handgun each.

 _Because I love-_

"Because it's necessary"

Any snarky reply she might've had for that is rendered mute when May lashes out, deftly knocking his gun from his hand, both move forwards to push the advantage, but he moves into the gap between them, confusing them long enough to slip past them, they were expecting him to go backwards, drawing his back up weapon from its holster.

Skye pauses at the edge of the room, from where she was ushering the controller downstairs, her eyes locked on him, he's aware of that, but it's the other two who are commanding his attention, his weapon pointed squarely between May's eyes.

"Well", he tries for mocking, but he just sounds upset and he can read the confusion on their faces, but has faith in Skye. He has faith in _her_. No matter what, he will always have that faith, but right now he has no other choice but to play for time, he doesn't know what'll happen if he doesn't make it look convincing, "You can't say I don't believe in a fair fight"

With that, he throws his pistol away and plants his fist squarely in Tripp's face.

Skye disappears downstairs.

* * *

He moves through the facility, silently, but with all the speed he can muster, following the sounds of a fight. Reaching the double doors he was looking for, he readjusted his sunglasses and stepped forwards.

Just in time for Coulson to land at his feet.

Their conversation is brief, before he hands him the Destroyer gun, and Coulson wastes no time in lighting it up. The orange Asgardian glow lighting he area.

"I know what it does"

* * *

It's like a dance that he knows all the steps to, but his partners are dancing blind. He kicks May's shin as she moves to kick him, before blocking Tripp's punch at the elbow shoving him back, sending three quick jabs to the side of his ribs, pushing him back, before ducking under May's high kick to the back of his head.

He rolls forward as Tripp tries to stomp on him, using a handspring to get to his feet, before spinning back towards them, placing Tripp in between him and May, as he struck out with a series of quick strikes and kicks that winded him.

He staggered backwards, as May moved to stand beside her partner, her eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion, "That's not your fighting style"

"No", he straightened himself up, drawing himself to his full height, and locking eyes with her, his brown against her ice, "it's yours"

* * *

"When was the last time anyone saw a tag team wrestling match with four dead guys?"

* * *

They push him harder now, working out of tandem to throw him off, but it's no real use, he knows their styles too well, and they're too predictable as a team, not that the tactic would work against him for long anyway, but there's nothing they've got that he hasn't seen from either of them before.

For the first time since his childhood, he prays for a miracle.

He gets one.

* * *

'WHAT ARE WE DAD?'  
'WE'RE A TEAM'

He switches targets, from Coulson to Garrett, and fires.

* * *

"Mr Peterson is free to do as he pleases"

* * *

They descend from the ceiling, and Ward drops to his knees, surrendering instantly at the sight of the blue and white.

 _These are Fury's men – SHIELD Special Forces! He survived!_

He lets them cuff him, slapping the metal around his wrists, yanking him to his feet, while Tripp and May watch on, noticing the way Ward's shoulders slump, not in defeat – but in relief. She doesn't understand.

 _He's glad to have lost?_

 _He hates losing._

They walk behind him, prepared to take him out should he make a break for it, but he doesn't make any move to run. He just marches behind the tac-team, keeping pace with them, though that's unsurprising, they got less hits against him combined than he did against them.

It's infuriating.

She knew he was good, but not once has he ever even given her a glimpse at being that good. He just copied her fighting style perfectly, down to the footwork she had developed herself! Every time they sparred, she would catalogue his moveset that bit more, but he didn't use any of his usual pieces today. Instead, he used hers, and she knows they were outclassed. If Fury's team hadn't shown up when they had, who knows what would've happened?

But one thing's for sure.

Ward was playing with them.

And he wasn't playing to win.

* * *

He was brought before Coulson and shoved to his knees. They wanted him to look up at them. Like he was an animal – a dog.

Like he was their pet.

He kept his head up. He'd allowed them to take him in, and they knew it, he could feel their irritation at his lack of a fight. They just wanted a reason – an opportunity to execute him.

He wouldn't give it to them.

He wouldn't give SHIELD the satisfaction of being the ones that finally got to finish him.

Not after they'd failed him so massively.

Not after they'd failed _her_.

Movement to his left pulled his gaze from where it had settled on the far wall, ignoring the curious looks the three senior members of the team were giving him as his focus settled.

On Fury and Garrett.

The latter of which was dead, and lying on the floor surrounded by his own blood.

There was a faint smell of burnt flesh in the air.

There were burns marks on his face, and the Destroyer Gun was discarded on the floor. It looked as though the Asgardian weapon had done its job quite well, though, he took a searching glance around the room, which told him Deathlok was also missing, so it could mean that the half-man half-machine had been the one to finish it.

 _Not that I can blame him._

Finally he locked eyes with the man who'd pulled him out of Juvie nearly fifteen years ago. He'd shown up to help the team stop Garrett, but he hadn't done what he said he'd do – what he _swore_ to do.

As he glared at the man who had overseen his training for over a decade, he found it amusing how uncertainty danced in his one good eye, before realisation settled in, which was quickly expelled, and replaced by _shame_.

"Oh God no"

* * *

"Oh God no"

His heart reached a tipping point, his tight lid on his emotions almost failing him as he looked into his eyes. They held nothing but contempt for him at that moment, and that confirmed it.

They gotten control him by using her against him.

Which meant they'd gotten to her despite his promises that he'd look out for her no matter what.

He'd failed both of them.

"Did they-"

His voice trailed off as Ward's silence evolved into a low growl, which was as good as a resounding yes – his boy never got that angry at anything or anyone, unless _she_ was involved.

"Uncuff him"

"WHAT?"

Coulson, who'd been preparing his speech for the traitorous bastard since he'd gotten word they'd detained him was flabbergasted. Fury, the Director of SHIELD, of all people, wanted them to let him go? What? Why?

" _Now_ Phil"

With that order, Tripp, who was eyeing them both wearily now, stepped forward and released Ward from his restraints, before sharply stepping back, one hand holding the handcuffs, the other resting on the butt of his ICER.

Slowly, his boy stood up, rubbing at his wrists, letting the blood flow gently back into them, easing the transition as he straightened up fully. He stepped forward to meet him.

"I'm sor-"

The straight right to his jaw wasn't completely unexpected, but it hurt like Hell nonetheless.

He watched the others tense up, as their hands flew to draw their weapons, preparing to open fire, but he waved them off. He had expected it.

Grant didn't handle his emotions well, not that he actually could, it was an unfortunate biological side effect of possessing his father's abilities, thankfully at least, he didn't have the same memory problems that plagued the monster that was his old man.

 _And luckily,_ they both thought, _she hasn't displayed any abilities whatsoever._

The realist side to both of them couldn't help but chime in, _at least, not yet anyway._

Any conversation the two of them could've continued, or started for that matter, was cut off by the arrival of (Agent?) Skye, he couldn't remember if she'd been fully enlisted or not, and the victims of the Incentives programme.

Some of them were older adults, but they were mostly teenaged adults or thereabouts, a few young adults, and even several small children, it seemed no age group was free from HYDRA.

"You're responsible for this. You helped your precious John and his precious HYDRA take these people from their homes. From their families-"

"That's enough Phil!"

* * *

He didn't get angry very often, but Coulson knew him well enough to know just how _dangerous_ that tone of his voice was, and just how rarely he actually got to use it, but the anger didn't leave his face, he just turned it towards his boss.

"Enough? Enough? No Nick! What's enough is-"

"DADDY!"

His complaints died in his throat.

The shout came from a little girl, who couldn't have been older than five, if he had to guess, and she was clearly terrified, if the scream said anything.

She was dressed in the same dull grey jumpsuit that the rest of the prisoners were wearing, her long brown and blonde hair fell down her back in soft curls, and she was very pretty, with strong features that would definitely make her a real beauty when she was older.

As a senior SHIELD field agent, he didn't show it, but he pitied her father, she was going to have many _suitors_ when she got older.

The little girl tore across the room, straight past where Skye tried to stop her from running off and slipping around Agent May, who made no move to actually stop her, as the child barrelled past all of them, her barefooted feet making a 'tap'-ping noise against the bare concrete floor.

She ignored all of them in favour of the man who had dropped to his knees.

With another, quieter, cry of 'Daddy!", she threw herself against Ward's chest, who wasted no time in enveloping her, smothering her in a hug, and he felt his throat turn dry, watching the specialist's chest heave in silent sobs, as the huge man tried to bury himself against the tiny frame.

He watched as a father – _when exactly did that happen?_ – comforted his distressed daughter, either forgetting they were there, or ignoring them completely.

A quick look to his old boss told him that this was what Fury was attempting to apologise for.

A second look revealed that his team were all in similar states of shock to him.

Even May's jaw was still hanging open, although just barely.

He cleared his throat, in an attempt to grab the specialist's attention, but he only had eyes for his little girl.

 _Where the Hell do we go from here?_

* * *

 **Author's Note**

So what did you all think?

This came to me a few weeks ago and just wouldn't leave, so I decided to write it down. The last part was a bit difficult to write, but I think it came out okay.

I have a few ideas as to where a follow-up could go, depending on the feedback I get.

Also, the daughter needs a name and I have yet to select one. Submissions welcome!

-MarvelMatt


End file.
